The Shadow Rises

by K. S. Marsden

  James paused, scanning through the marked pages. Eventually he shrugged. “No, no mention on how. You’ll have to work that out alone. As for bein’ up against a Shadow, I doubt the Benandanti ever met one.”

  Hunter stared at the book unseeingly. “Do you think this is how Sophie worked it out?”

  “Probably. She had open access to the Astley collection and library.” James replied honestly, sharing a portion of the guilt and shame.

  “I think we can assume that, even with my questionable abilities, Sophie will be prepared. She’ll bring a small army of witches.”

  James didn’t interrupt, but did wonder how Hunter could sound so sure.

  “An army of witches.” Hunter repeated quietly. “And we have what, fifty witch-hunters?”

  “Forty-three.” James corrected.

  A pitiful number, sure to be crushed. They had personally seen thirty witches just in that house. Hunter didn’t doubt that Sophie could double or triple that within hours. Hopefully she’ll be impatient and come with only a handful of witches, rather than patiently mustering more.

  “Why don’t we build our own army?” James suddenly asked.

  “What, with forty-three witch-hunters? Or are you suggesting that the villagers of Little Hanting join in?”

  James ignored his sarcasm. “No, I mean the actual army. They’ve gotta be on alert after the comms went down. If we get some troops here we’ll be winning on numbers.”

  “James!” Hunter cut into his enthusiasm. “First of all, they aren’t witch-hunters.”

  “But they are trained.” James argued.

  “And numbers might not help against a Shadow.” Hunter persevered.

  “But they’ll help, ‘specially if you knock out the magic.”

  “And the closest base is nearly two hours away. Even if someone set off now, by the time the troops were kitted and mobilised, they couldn’t get back here for what, five hours. It could be too late.”

  James shook his head, opening his book again. “Look, the Benandanti could travel in the blink of an eye. You could go tell them. Even if you can’t transport them with you, it’ll cut two hours off the time.”

  “James, I am not Benandanti!” Hunter argued. Yes, things would all work out if he did have all these powers, but all he felt was bloody useless at this point.

  “Just try, what’s the harm?”

  The harm? He could be accused of witchcraft and cast out by the witch-hunters when they needed him most.

  “Even if I can, it might not be soon enough. What if she attacks while I’m away?”

  “Then you will survive to fight again and find a way to destroy the Shadow Witch.” James answered seriously. “Hunter, try, you’re our only hope.”

  “I don’t know how.” Hunter continued to argue.

  “Concentrate, I guess.” James said encouragingly. “Ah, if it works, I’ll keep an eye on the others. I think its best that they don’t know ‘bout this til necessary.”

  Hunter stood up and instinctively closed his eyes. Feeling rather stupid he twisted his mind, trying to feel something, tingly, or warm and smothered like the Shadow.

  “This is never going to work.” He muttered, opening his eyes.

  “Just keep concentrating.” James suggested. “Picture yourself on base.”

  Hunter took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. He remembered visiting the base when he’d first joined the MMC, he’d been to see the general, an open-minded, trustworthy man who’d been made aware of the witch threat and occasionally passed on witch-sightings and helped with some of the cover-ups.

  Hunter could see clearly the general’s office, with the desk and walls decorated with photos and certificates. It all seemed out of reach.

  “I feel stupid.” He muttered.

  There was a faint click and a man’s voice came from behind him.

  “Raise your hands and turn slowly to face me.”

  Hunter’s eyes flew open, instead of his navy bedroom there were cream walls. He lifted his hands and span quickly to see the familiar office.

  There was the crack of a pistol as the man fired at his hasty movements. Hunter’s eyes widened with fear and his heart leapt… but nothing hit him. He looked down, confused. A shining bullet hovered just inches from his chest. Stopped dead.

  “Huh. That’s useful.” Hunter reached out to touch it. His finger brushed the metal, before he swore and snapped his hand back from the heat. Hunter frowned and stared at the little thing, then it dropped onto the floor.

  Hunter looked up. There was a shocked middle-aged man standing behind a desk, holding a gun with impressive steadiness. It had been a few years, but he was still recognisable.

  “General Hayworth.” Hunter stepped towards him, hesitating as he realised that he was barefoot. Bother, next time he’d have to remember to be fully dressed before attempting transporting himself.

  “Sir, my name’s Hunter Astley, from the Malleus Maleficarum Council. We met a few years ago.”

  “Astley? Astley, yes I remember.” The general glanced down at his bare feet with a frown. “We thought only witches appeared out of nowhere.”

  The general half-shrugged and lowered his gun, obviously thinking he’d given enough explanation for having fired at the sudden appearance of a person in his office.

  “It’s a long story.” Hunter admitted. “But I don’t have time to explain everything. We need your help. We know where the Shadow Witch will strike next, we just need an army to face her.”

  The door of the office suddenly opened and a younger man burst in. He stopped, staring at the General and witch-hunter. “General, I, ah, heard a gunshot.”

  “It’s nothing, Dawkins, return to your post.” General Hayworth replied calmly.

  The young man, obedient but confused, backed out of the office, closing the door behind him.

  “Sit down, Astley.” The general said, motioning to a chair in front of his desk. “As I was saying to Marks before the phones went down, the army doesn’t take orders from your MMC. In times of chaos we have to follow the proper channels, but-”

  “But we don’t have time to follow the proper channels.” Hunter interrupted with frustration. “The Shadow Witch could attack at any time.”

  “Will you let me finish, Mr Astley?” The General said patiently. “But, I understand that things have changed. Those that wrote the rules could not have predicted this. I also understand that the MMC may well know best. Yet my men are not trained to fight witches.”

  “You can’t choose your enemies.” Hunter reasoned.

  “No, but we are better defending than fighting.” The general mused. “Your Council does know best, I suppose. We will rally to your aid.”

  General Hayworth walked over to the door and opened it. “Sergeant!”

  Dawkins reappeared obediently. “Yes General?”

  “I want the men armed and ready to leave in thirty minutes. Then return here.”

  Dawkins blinked with surprise. “Yes General.”

  The sergeant disappeared down the corridor to pass on the order.

  “Thank you, General.” Hunter said as the general closed the door and returned to his seat.

  “Don’t thank me yet.” He replied. “You have half an hour to explain this to me.”

  Twenty-five

  Hunter decided that relaying his story was the least he could do for this good man. Hunter went over a lot, but not everything, he left out most of his mistakes, aware as he did so that he was leaving gaping holes in his story.

  The General just sat there, building up a better understanding of their enemy. He raised a brow whenever he felt that Hunter was being evasive or less than honest, but said nothing until he’d finished.

  “I agree that we need to get to Little Hanting as soon as possible. That travel ‘in a blink’ thing you did, can you take others?”

  “I - I don’t know.” Hunter replied truthfully. “I haven’t really had time to work it out.”

  The G
eneral nodded and stood up, going to his office door once more. “Dawkins!”

  The mild young man popped in for the third time.

  “Yes General?”

  “I’m going to inspect the troops, Dawkins. You are going to help Mr Astley with a little experiment.” He turned to Hunter. “Astley, I want a definite answer in fifteen minutes.”

  General Hayworth exited the office, leaving Hunter with a now very pale Dawkins.

  “Experiment?” The sergeant asked weakly.

  Hunter hesitated. He could try explaining it to the fellow, but he’d be likelier to scare him rather than reassure him. The idea of taking another person along brought up a lot of questions for Hunter. What if it didn’t work? Or worse, what if it only partially worked and half of poor Dawkins got left behind?

  “Just… stand still and bear with me.” Hunter suggested, shutting out his worries.

  Hunter reached out and held the sergeant’s arm tightly. He shut his eyes and pictured home. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

  Damn, still the office. Dawkins stood tense and still beside him.

  Hunter frowned, concentrate, concentrate. Home, his room with the oak panelling, the cream and navy sheets and curtains, the table with the-

  Hunter felt Dawkins snatch away from him and feared the worst. His eyes snapped open. The first thing he saw was his bedroom; the second was a very whole and very pale Dawkins.

  “Yes!” Hunter shouted, finally something had gone right.

  “How do you feel? All in one piece? Dizzy?” Hunter asked the sergeant rapidly.

  Dawkins gazed about him open-mouthed and wide-eyed. “What was…? Ah, yes sir, fine sir. A little dizzy I guess.”

  “Great.” Hunter replied. “Ok, I’ve got to get back to General Hayworth, you might as well stay here. Go downstairs, find someone called James Bennett. Tell him Hunter is going to bring the army.”

  Hunter broke off. He didn’t know how many men would be coming, but no part of his Manor would hold even a hundred, he’d struggle to get even fifty into any room.

  “Tell James they’ll be in Little Hanting’s church hall within the hour.”

  Hunter was getting excited now. Death and war beckoned to them, but now they had a chance. He stood tall and closed his eyes to go back to the General’s office, then broke off.

  “Shoes, shoes…” He pulled them out from under his bed and hopped about as he pulled them on. He grabbed his coat and closed his eyes.

  When he opened them he was in General Hayworth’s office. This blinking thing was getting easier. Hunter felt hope burn bright in his chest as he left the office to find the General.

  Outside, a hundred soldiers stood, kitted and ready, silent and waiting. Hunter could see a single figure moving up and down the ranks, the general inspecting the troops.

  Hunter ran up, aware of the many eyes that followed him.

  General Hayworth took one look at him. “So you were successful?”

  Hunter nodded, then couldn’t help but smile. He was bristling with the excitement and opportunity of this new ability.

  “Well, let’s get this over with.” The general said. “How do you suggest we go about this? It’ll take a while to go one at a time. Can you take several?”

  Hunter, buoyed up by recent success was thinking of something a little more effective. “I have an idea. Can we use a wall?”

  Without explaining himself, Hunter turned to the nearest building and went up to the side wall that stretched about 10 metres wide. The Shadow Witch had done it with shadows, why shouldn’t he be able to do it with what was on hand.

  “I figure that if I create and maintain a link you should all be able to, well, to march on through.” Hunter tried to sound convincing.

  General Hayworth frowned, but sighed, the General was out of his depth where magic was concerned, he’d go along with almost anything at this point. After all, what did they have to lose.

  “Very well.” He turned to his troops. “Fall in, four abreast. Forward march.”

  There was the co-ordinated movement of well-trained men. The General halted them in front of the building.

  “When you’re ready, Astley.”

  Hunter tried to ignore how very pale and dubious the first four men at the front of the column looked, and placed his hand on the cold brick. Closing his eyes he did his best to picture the old church hall, without going there himself. Ready, he nodded.

  On command the first four stepped and - slammed into the wall. Hunter opened his eyes as about him soldiers laughed with a note of panic.

  “Wait, wait, I’ve got it now, I promise.” Hunter said, concentrating so hard it was difficult to get the words out.

  The General ordered his men to go again, which they did gingerly, reaching out and finding their hands passing through the solid wall. This caused as much subdued panic as before, but soon the men marched through under the stern eye of their General.

  Gradually the court cleared as the troops disappeared. Hunter was sweating with the exertion of keeping the link, he had no idea it would be so hard to concentrate for so long. As the last soldier stepped through, Hunter broke off from the wall and bent over at the knee, his heart pounding and breath panting, a wave of exhaustion came over him as though he’d just ran a bloody marathon. He vaguely thought that he should have made them all drive instead.

  “Buck up, Astley.” Came the general’s voice. “You’re not done just yet.”

  Hunter took a deep breath and stood up straight. He dutifully took hold of General Hayworth’s arm. One more trip, he’d manage it, he’d have to.

  When he opened his eyes, Hunter was surrounded by soldiers beneath the dusty roof of the old village hall. Next to him, General Hayworth looked about business-like, apparently unfazed by the magical journey.

  They’d only been there a minute when Sergeant Dawkins and Anthony Marks pushed their way towards them. Hunter didn’t like the look on Marks’ face, and guessed what was coming. But any unpleasantness was put off by the necessary introductions and briefings.

  “… squads are placed beyond Astley Manor, we were just dividing the rest to place about the village.” Dawkins reeled off, obviously recovered from his earlier shock.

  “We can’t thank you enough, General.” Marks said.

  “We’re all on the same side, Mr Marks.” General Hayworth replied, brushing aside his thanks. They could be grateful when, and if, they won.

  Marks nodded, then finally turned to Hunter. “A word please, Mr Astley.”

  Oh no, Hunter definitely didn’t like the sound of his voice, and followed Marks out of the hall like a naughty schoolboy. He’d just brought them an army, surely that proved he was still one of the good guys, surely they wouldn’t damn him as a witch and therefore evil.

  Outside it was bitterly cold with a bright sun. Little Hanting had never looked so idyllic on this sharp, clear day. The villagers were gone and the only movement was that of uniformed soldiers and their witch-hunter guides.

  Anthony Marks stopped abruptly and turned to Hunter, his eyes blazing. When he spoke, his voice struggled to remain calm. “Well? Are you going to explain what the hell is going on? We’re under serious threat from the Shadow Witch - a threat you’ve seemed to exacerbate, I might add - you disappear and your assistant refuses to say anything. A sergeant from the British Army materialises in the Manor and the Army is in the church hall. This all smacks of magic, Astley.”

  Hunter couldn’t meet Marks’ gaze, instead he looked vaguely over his shoulder.

  “It’s… complicated. Do you know what happens when a 7th gen witch-hunter is created? It turns out that we have evolved to be something more… gifted. Similar to the Benandanti, they were-”

  “The Italian anti-witches, yes I know, get on with it.” Marks interrupted harshly.

  Hunter frowned. Christ, was he the only person not to have heard of them?

  “I have some of their abilities, which I’ve used to bring in the army. We couldn�
��t hope to win without their help. I know this sounds dodgy, but I’m not a witch and I’m still a witch-hunter, still the same guy. When this is all over we can debate the issue, but right now we don’t have time. You just have to trust me.”

  Hunter watched Marks carefully, but the older witch-hunter gave nothing away with his stern expression.

  “You were wrong to hide this from us, Astley.” Marks eventually spoke, “How can we wage a war when you are going off on private jaunts with your own aims… What’s left of the MMC could prosecute you on that alone. I knew your father, Young, he was a good man, and I’m sure you are too. Just promise me, no more secrets, no hidden agendas.”

  Hunter nodded, “I promise.”

  Marks took a deep breath and looked about the empty village. “Well I suppose we best form a council and go over the battle plan.”

  Without another word, Marks headed off. After a moment or two, Hunter followed, not sure whether or not he should be relieved.

  Twenty-six

  Everyone was on edge as they waited for the attack. But the short winter’s day rolled on with no sign of activity. The soldiers and witch-hunters alike grumbled in the cold, and even Hunter began to doubt his assumption that Sophie would come for revenge, for him.

  About 4 o’ clock that afternoon, the sun dropped to the misty horizon and the world was half-lit in a grey light. Twilight.

  “They’re coming.” Hunter breathed, his hand tightening about the cold handle of his gun

  There was a suffocating silence, and a gentle breeze that was oddly warm. In the open space outside the village, figures began to appear, black and solid against the insubstantial evening. There was a throbbing pulse of magic that raised the head of every witch-hunter.

  The witches were more than fifty in number, and they bristled with excitement as they marched behind their leader, the Shadow Witch. They came to the edge of the Astley estate and stopped, the magic of the Manor doing its work. None could cross the invisible line without rendering themselves mortal.

  In the privacy of every man and woman’s mind, a voice echoed an ultimatum.